Elsewhere
by petalsgettingpicked
Summary: You'd collapsed into him, your own arms finding their way around his neck, and you cried into his shoulder, and he held you. Comforted you. SethMarissa, standalone, post finale.


**A/N: **Here I am with a story featuring my new favourite O.C. pairing, Seth/Marissa. There's a terrible lack of them out there, so I'm bringing one to you fans. This story had been edited thousands of times, then deleted and re-uploaded because something messed up, but here is the final version.

**This story is told in second person, the person being Marissa.**

**Also, this fic is sort of a companion piece to my other one called "For Love."** You don't have to read it because this one sort of explains more to what happens in it, so...yeah.

**Elsewhere**

Sometimes you wonder why things turn out the way they do. Like if there's a reason for everything.

The summer of 2005 went by in sort of a blur for you. You had no one to open up to, no one who would listen to you, no one to hold you, to comfort you, no one except him. For the first time since you acknowledged each other, he didn't complain about himself or his problems, and you know very well that he has a good handful of them. Like his mother going to rehab, his girlfriend dumping him, and his best friend leaving for good - though not once did he mention any of these to you while you laid out your feelings to him. He listened to you, he murmoured soothing words to you while you cried, he told you over and over that none of this was your fault, although you still believe it really was...

Sometimes you feel bad that you never said a word to him until Ryan came to stay with them, and even then it was just a simple nod, a playful punch, or a laugh.

He'd always been...there, you guess. Ever since elementary school, he would just sit in a corner of the cafeteria and read X-Men comics while Luke and Holly commented on how much of a reject he was. You never said anything, except that one time in junior high, when they said his taste in music sucked. You'd crossed your arms across your chest and informed them that you actually like some of the music he listened to. They asked you how the hell you knew what he liked, you said you saw him holding a copy of a Radiohead album the other day.

That shut them up.

When his family moved in during the summer before fifth grade, and your mother introduced you and Summer to him, all he did was stare blankly at the two of you, and Summer just snorted, so you did, too, just to give off the impression that you didn't like him either, although, secretly, you were rather fond of the Chewbacca shirt he was wearing.

And when he and Summer broke up last year, all she did was blab on and on about how much of an ass he was, and you would nod, and not say anything, because, secretly, you thought that sailing away from all your problems didn't sound like such a bad idea at all.

When you and Ryan were dating, you secretly felt that the relationship was going nowhere, and, almost amazingly, you were right. The two of you had nothing in common. You never had the emotional connection you've always longed for with someone. And it was way too easy for somebody to come between you.

But maybe that's why you loved him. Because you hated changes, you didn't feel like talking much - at least not then - and you've always like the idea of trying to win a person back.

And you liked the fact that, no matter how much you and him had disagreements, he would have the need to protect you, so whenever someone caused you pain, he would kick that person's ass until they could feel the same amount of pain they had given you, and, sometimes, even more.

You know you didn't need any of that. All you know you need is someone who would give up their time just to listen to you, to comfort you, to tell you that everything was going to turn out okay in the end, and to lend you a shoulder to cry on.

You had a feeling that that was exactly what Seth could give you. So you listened to your instincts and poured your mind out to him.

The day after Trey's funeral, you went to the Cohen's house. The place seemed emptier than before. You saw him there, and he nodded to you, and you nodded back, then he disappeared into his bedroom, and you'd wandered out into the poolhouse to find Ryan.

You had begged, pleaded, and cried but he would not listen - you weren't surprised of course, no one listens to you, ever - then he'd lightly kissed you and was gone.

And somehow time had reversed, everything was spinning and soon it felt like he had never been there in the first place, like everything was the way it was before, but different, this time seemed more emptier and surreal. You wanted go somewhere else, some place where songs were sung,days were sunny and he, Seth, would be there, saying things to you, and you would actually _laugh_, because, for the first time since...well, you can't really remember, it was so long ago...you're actually _happy_.

Ryan had left. Summer had left. He said he wanted to be with his mother, the only real piece of him he had in his life. She'd said some shit about wanting to clear her head, to get away from all of her problems. Sure. Summer's problems consisted of a guy...and, well, another guy. Nothing that lived up to your own problems. Your _real_ problems. Sometimes you envy her, for Summer never had any _real_ problems.

You'd fallen to the floor of the poolhouse, tears burning their way down your cheeks, dripping into your mouth, to your hands, to your clothes, to the carpet...

Then he had found you, crumpled in the bedsheets, and he'd held out his hand, and you took it, probably soaking it with tears now that you think back to it, and he pulled you up and sat you down on the bed, then wrapped his arm around you.

You'd collapsed into him, your own arms finding their way around his neck, and you cried into his shoulder, and he held you. Comforted you.

And there you were, embraced by his warmth, and you thought, maybe, somewhere beneath this tangled web of crap that was your life, there was a bit of hope, hope that would hold you, soothe you.

You still believe that hope is him.


End file.
